


I Catch Myself Falling

by half_alive



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Leonard Snart Lives, M/M, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_alive/pseuds/half_alive
Summary: Five times Barry and Len have to fake it, and the one time they don’t.Or, the one in which it starts as Len trying to annoy Barry and have some fun and along the way feelings most definitely do not develop. (They most definitely do.)





	I Catch Myself Falling

**1.**

Len had to give credit where credit was due: this woman was persistent. She’d been hitting on him for the better part of twenty minutes now — he confirmed it with a quick and not at all subtle glance at the clock hanging over the bar — and still had yet to take the hint that he wasn’t interested. He might have been, if she hadn’t opened with calling him ‘Honey’.

Now, she was just irritating. He’d let her go on for a while just to see where she took it and pass the time until the Legends got called back to the ship, but it had long since passed the point of being entertaining.

He could always pull the cold gun out, but that was distastefully flashy, even for him, and would no doubt cause a scene. He could also blatantly tell her to fuck off, given that his more subtle attempts had sailed right over her head, but then he’d have to deal with her raging at him. Which seemed likely, based off the cut sleeves of her leather vest and the tattoos gracing her arms, all of which pointed to her being a member of the gang that had taken up residence in the back corner. They were known for being raging dicks.

Idly, Len cut his eyes to the door, where a man had just entered and was heading straight for them. He smirked.

Or, he thought to himself, he could have some fun with it instead.

“Darling,” he greeted, with the mooniest smile he could manage. He reached out a hand, beckoning him in. “I missed you.”

Barry, rightfully so, shot him a look like he’d grown three extra heads and all of them were talking nonsense. He slowed his pace drastically, glancing between Len and the woman beside him, who was leaning as far into his space as she could without falling off her barstool.

“Hey…” Barry said slowly, coming up beside him while artfully dodging his outstretched arm. He must’ve caught the look the woman tossed between them, because he reluctantly tacked on, like it pained him greatly, “...Dear.”

Len spun on his stool until his whole body was facing Barry, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into his side. Barry’s face did a complicated dance from ‘what the fuck’ to the fakest smile he’d ever seen on him.

“What’s… going on?”

Len ran his hand up and down his side. “We were just chatting, sweetheart. No need to be jealous.”

The way Barry’s own hand came down on Len’s shoulder and squeezed far too hard conveyed his feelings about that very clearly, and Len quietly rejoiced at having had such an effect. He kept it off his face, turning back to the woman across from them when she made a sound.

“Oh,” she said very pointedly. A frown pulled at her features. “I didn’t realize you were…”

“Taken?” Len filled in for her, knowing exactly where she’d actually been going. Another defining trait of her gang.

“Right,” she conceded. She pulled her vest a little tighter around herself, smiling tightly as she uncrossed her legs and stood as gracefully as she could while trying to make a quick exit. “I’ll just… leave you to it, then.”

Len hummed and, with that, she was gone. Finally. He reached for his drink and took a long sip, sighing, but didn’t bother to move his other arm from its comfortable position at his arch enemy’s hip.

“So.” Barry cleared his throat. His voice was tight, whether with controlled anger or awkwardness. He pulled out of Len’s hold a little more aggressively than necessary. “What the fuck was that?”

Len glanced at him. Definitely anger, he decided, noting the pursed lips and blazing look in his eyes. It was a look Len had grown intimately familiar with over the years, having stared it down more than once during his days as a thief. And, apparently, during his days as a Legend now, too. It was satisfying to know that even if he could no longer feel the thrill of pulling off a brilliant heist, he could never be robbed of the satisfaction of getting under The Flash’s skin.

He shrugged. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Barry side-eyed him. “You know you could’ve easily scared her off.” He made a half gesture to the gun tucked under Len’s coat, but dropped his hand when he remembered where they were. Even if Saints and Sinners was a bar full of criminals, it was better if no one knew what you were packing. Especially here, where it would most likely be taken as a threat and cause a stir.

“Of course,” Len agreed. “But I wanted to see that adorably pissed off look on your face. It’s like a puppy trying to be intimidating.”

Barry gave him an offended look and opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it when he realized exactly what Len was doing. It was what he always did — goading him into a fight, poking at his ribs until he blew up and they could go toe to toe as The Flash and Captain Cold.

“Whatever,” Barry sighed, shaking his head. Reluctantly, he took the now empty seat beside him. “I came here because I need your help. And, after that, you owe me.”

 

**2.**

“I don’t think this is necessary,” Ray argued, standing behind the control panel and wringing his hands together in front of him. He looked between the three of them with the kind of awkward panic only he could manage.

Sara rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine. They can pull it off. Just channel all that…” she made a wide gesture that seemed to encompass their entire bodies, “hatred into sexual tension.”

“I don’t hate him,” Barry piped up for the first time in ten minutes. He glanced at Len with a frown, his arms folded across his chest drawing attention to the lightning emblem on his chest. The bright red of his suit stood out on the Waverider. “Well, not all the time.”

Fed up with all of them, Len cleared his throat and made sure his face conveyed his annoyance. “Are we done deliberating? Just because we’re in a timeship doesn’t mean we have all day.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Sara turned to Barry and ordered him to go put on something pretty that wouldn’t make him stick out so much among a bunch of people wearing suits and expensive gowns. Len was already dressed for the occasion, having been on party infiltration duty from the beginning, before they discovered they might need a speedster to get through some of the security measures on the upper level of the mansion.

They’d already roped Barry into the mission at that point, but before that he was only supposed to be emergency back-up until they got the stupid amulet and needed him to phase it back into its vault in 2036.

Barry left the deck, grumbling under his breath all the way about how much he hated wearing suits. As soon as he was gone, Ray turned to them. The panic still hadn’t left his face.

“Are we sure about this? Maybe you should go instead of Len.”

“Relax,” Sara brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “They’ve got this. All the bickering they do can easily be turned into flirting. Just throw in some pet names, some arm touching. Everyone will think they’re married.”

Reluctantly and most definitely not out loud, Len had to agree with her. He’d already heard it from Lisa — she’d wiggled her eyebrows at him and asked if they were fucking the second time she ever met The Flash — and he also already had proof of concept from their little bit at the bar a couple months ago.

He fixed the cuffs of his suit jacket and smoothed out the collar of his dress shirt. “I’m going to go make sure Barry doesn’t choose something dreadful to wear,” he drawled, and made his exit. 

 

**3.**

Barry was waiting outside the club when Len got there. He pushed off the brick wall and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, turning to face him in the dark alley. The only light came from the flashing sign over the door, which glowed neon pink and solidified the club’s status as  _ seedy _ . 

“Thanks,” Barry greeted, smiling stiffly at him. They still hadn’t quite worked out how to do this whole not-really-enemies thing, and he’d seemed completely caught off guard when Len had agreed to help him without asking anything in return. Even pretending to be married for six hours to a room full of bourgeois homophobes in the 1980s couldn’t completely erase the awkwardness, it seemed.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Len told him, digging in his pocket. His fingers closed around what he was looking for and he held it out to Barry, who had to squint to see it in the shitty lighting. “If you’re going to be my plus one, you have to play the part.”

“Again?” Barry sighed, but he sounded resigned and had already accepted the ring. He slipped it on his finger, where it fit perfectly. Gideon had made it just for him, after all, and he’d worn it before.

Len shrugged, trying to ignore what the sight of it did to him. He wasn’t quite sure when  _ that  _ had started — probably sometime between Barry’s hand on his lower back and being forced to make heart eyes at him from across a sea of dancing aristocrats — but now definitely wasn’t the time to examine it. Or ever, really.

(Len didn’t do feelings. He especially didn’t do feelings for a straight superhero who was closer to Lisa’s age than his. And, even if he did, he didn’t do relationships. So any feelings he might have had were better left carefully compartmentalized into a box in the back of his mind, where they could gather dust until they disappeared.)

“Shall we?” he asked, waving a hand towards the door. The shift from Barry Allen to The Flash, here on business and ready to take down some illegal weapons sellers, was evident.

They made it through security easily despite the fact that Len hadn’t been here since his more wild teenage years. They knew his face and his name regardless. Captain Cold was infamous to everyone in Central City, but this was especially true of the criminal population.

As they entered the club itself, Len put a hand on Barry’s lower back, guiding him past the stage and towards the back corner. He’d been expecting Barry to look horribly out of place, uncomfortable in a room full of criminals and half naked women dancing on poles, but Barry didn’t tense at all, and he didn’t gape. Clearly, Len didn’t give the kid enough credit.

“Cold!” a man in a well-tailored but garish suit called out to them as they approached the corner booth. He held both hands up with a smile like they were old friends, a lit cigar propped between two fingers.

“Morelli,” Len acknowledged. He pulled his hand away from Barry and together they took the empty seats at the table. “Heard you’ve been busy.”

Morelli just grinned at them. “You know me, always got something in the works. This one, though? I’m telling you, this is where it’s at.”

“‘This’ being…?”

“Oh, you know,” he said with a sly look. “This and that. Who’s the pretty boy you got with you?”

Len glanced at Barry, who wiped the frown from his face as soon as he noticed and replaced it with an adoring smile. He took his hand, pulling it into his lap in such a way that the rings on both their fingers were on full display. He didn’t like the way these people were looking at Barry — like he was a fresh piece of meat to be devoured, a look they would never dare direct at Captain Cold. “My partner in crime. Among other things.”

One of the other men snorted into his drink. “I’ll bet.”

Purposefully, he released Barry’s hand and wrapped his arm around the back of his section of the booth instead, their sides pressed together. An amused look crossed Barry’s face, but he said nothing as he smiled at the men around the table. He met Len’s eyes and made a big show of conveying something with his face.

“Right,” Len said, like he’d just been reminded of whatever it was. “Actually, we were wondering if we might be able to get in on… this and that.”

Morelli practically lit up at the offer, waving his cigar happily. Of course, anyone in the underbelly of Central City couldn’t pass up the chance to work with _ the _ Captain Cold. He had a reputation that preceded him, even if his streak of getting away scot-free from any job he pulled had taken a significant hit in the years since The Flash had come onto the scene.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, with a wide grin that would be wiped off his face when he landed in prison two weeks later.

 

**4.**

“She’s drawn to rich crowds,” Cisco was saying, twirling his pen between his fingers as he swivelled his chair. “And there’s no crowd richer than… the one that will be at this gala.”

“That was weak,” Len noted.

“I thought it was going somewhere snappier, but there wasn’t anywhere else to go,” Cisco defended. He made a face, leaning all the way back in his chair and tossing his pen onto the desk.

“Right,” said Barry. When Len turned to look at him, he was scrubbing a hand down his face, looking equal parts thoughtful and exhausted. Whether it was because they’d been chasing this gold-digging meta for days, or because he’d been dealing with Len’s unhelpful comments since the Legends decided to take a week off and Len decided to drop by out of the goodness of his heart to  annoy them help them take her down.

Barry dropped his hand to join the other at his hips, looking around the room. Finally, his eyes landed on Len. He raised his eyebrows back, leaning nonchalantly against the computer panel with his arms folded across his chest.

When Barry looked away, it was with a put-upon sigh. He looked to the heavens like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Snart.”

“I’ll get the rings,” Len said.

 

**5.**

If Len were surprised to see Barry Allen sitting at the bar, two drinks in and chatting up some Tall-Dark-And-Handsome, it didn’t last long. Oddly, it didn’t seem that far fetched, and Barry didn’t look at all out of place, even if this place was nothing like the karaoke bars Len knew he usually frequented with his friends.

Which he only knew because Lisa had once tried to drag him along, back when her and Cisco used to date. He was glad that point in her life had passed rather quickly. He couldn’t imagine spending more time with the geek squad than he had to, and especially not in such a personal capacity.

Though, lately, Team Flash had been growing on him a little. It was probably all the time he was spending with the Legends that was making him go soft, or all the time he’d spent with Barry, whose absolute adoration for everyone in his life was almost contagious.

Len was about to go find a seat at one of the tables so he could pretend he hadn’t noticed Barry when he got a better look at what was going. He frowned, shooting another glance at the empty table situated perfectly in a dark corner. With a sigh, he headed towards the bar instead.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled when he got close enough to be within hearing range. He didn’t stop until he was right in Barry’s space, half beside him and half standing between him and the other guy. His hand found Barry’s shoulder and he squeezed in a way that could only come across as both familiar and affectionate. “Sorry I’m late.”

It spoke to how often they’d been doing this that Barry didn’t even blink. He smiled immediately, resting his own hand over Len’s and looping the other around his waist, pulling him closer. “It’s okay, babe. You’re forgiven.”

“Still love me?” Len asked, just to go the extra mile. No one could ever accuse him of doing anything halfway, including rescuing his former nemesis from some pushy dick at a bar.

“Always,” Barry replied in a tone mushy enough to set Len’s teeth on edge, which was probably the point. He moved closer in retaliation, until he was basically between Barry’s legs, his hand sliding up to cup his cheek. It didn’t turn red under his touch like he’d hoped, but the relief in Barry’s eyes when he darted his eyes away from Len to the guy behind him was almost as satisfying. Len’s stomach, which had twisted up just a little when he’d started making his way over, unknotted.

“I guess you really are seeing someone,” the guy said. He sounded disgruntled, and also a little disbelieving, but Len didn’t bother to turn around and check. He also didn’t bother to dissect his statement. So, Barry had told him he was seeing someone. He could turn that over in his head later.

He hummed. He didn’t bother trying to sound polite. “Yes, he is. So you can fuck right off and leave him alone.” He punctuated it with a very pointed look behind him, turning so it was his side to Barry’s front but not leaving his position between his thighs. He kept a hand on the back of Barry’s neck, who slid his own from the middle of Len’s lower back to his hip. How was it that Len always ended up sharing more public displays of affection with his nemesis than he ever had with anyone else in his life?

The guy’s face twisted up in anger, but it lasted all of two seconds before he shrugged and gathered his drink to go bother someone further down the bar. When Len deemed him a sufficient distance away, he started pulling away from Barry to take the seat beside him.

Only, Barry didn’t let him. For a second, his grip on Len’s hip tightened, keeping him there. In the next, he seemed to realize what he was doing and dropped his hand, though he was slow about it. Probably for the benefit of that guy, Len decided. It would look odd if they suddenly pulled away from each other like they couldn’t stand to touch.

Taking the empty stool beside his former enemy and flagging down the bartender, Len left it at that. It was easier to accept than the other explanation.

 

**+1.**

Len swirled his champagne around his glass, sighing. The woman he was speaking to didn’t notice, droning on about her husband never making time for her, off talking business with the boys even now. He’d lost interest in her within the first thirty seconds of meeting her, as soon as he realized she didn’t have the information they were looking for.

Just as he was starting to regret not bringing the cold gun, a voice cut in. “Mind if I steal him?”

He looked up as a hand settled on his arm, drawing his attention along with the woman he was talking to. She blinked at Barry, but it morphed quickly into a smile. “Oh, of course. My apologies for keeping him. You two have a good night.”

She left rather gracefully, with an unbothered wave of her hand that almost made Len regret having imagined six different ways to shut her up and get rid of her. 

“Team meeting,” Barry told him once she’d gone. He took Len’s flute of champagne from him. Taking a sip, he used the hand on his arm to guide him in the direction of the others. They were gathered rather unsurreptitiously just off the side of the dance floor, blending in with their flapper headbands and leather oxfords but standing out with how closely they were huddled and how furiously they were whispering.

They looked up as Barry and Len joined the circle. Ray frowned in confusion when Barry’s hand slid from his arm to lace their fingers, despite the frantic arguing that was going on around them. “You know you don’t have to pretend to be married this time.”

“We’re not,” Len said. He didn’t say anything else, even when the conversation immediately died so everyone could turn to stare at the two of them.

“Then why—”

“Guys,” Sara interrupted. She held her hands up in front of her, her expression taking on the most authoritative look she had. Which, admittedly, was very commanding. “Can we grill Snart about his boyfriend later? We need to find out where that talisman is.”

The gang wholeheartedly picked up their argument right where they’d left it, snapping at each other over the best course of action while Sara rubbed her forehead and tried to follow along in case someone came up with an actual idea. Len thought it best to stay out of it and wait for a plan to start forming before he intervened and pointed out all the holes in it. That was usually how things worked.

Somehow, a half-baked idea got tossed out and Sara decided to roll with it, so they disbanded to play their respective roles. As Len made to cross the room towards a group of particularly in-the-know looking people, Barry used the hand that was clasped with his to pull him back.

He kissed his cheek. “Stop flirting with the ladies,” he told him, lacking any firmness. “Most of them are married, you know.”

Len ignored the very public display of affection in a time period where that was more risky than cute. He trusted that Barry had waited until no one was looking. He wasn’t naive, as idealistic as he was. He also ignored it because, sometimes, it was nice just to have things.

He smirked up at him. “ _ Most _ of them.”

Rolling his eyes, Barry let go of his hand. “Well, then. Who am I to stop you? Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Len snorted. He took his champagne flute back from him and checked to make sure his target hadn’t moved, but paused before he left to pat Barry’s shoulder. “Fine,” he conceded. “I won’t flirt. I’m occasionally married too, after all.”

“Only occasionally?”

“Slow down, kid,” he said, dropping the volume of his voice so there was no chance it was for anyone but the two of them. “We’ll get there.”

He left before he could see Barry’s answering smile, but he knew from experience that it was blinding.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fill for the Wedding AU square on my Coldflash Bingo card. A very unsubtle cop-out of having to actually write a wedding. I adore all comments and kudos, and please feel free to come check me out/yell at me on [Tumblr](https://frozenflash.tumblr.com) <3 Also feel free to make suggestions/requests over there either just in general, or based off the other squares in my card xx


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